


Sickday

by NoCapes



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Fluff, Gen, M/M, just fluff drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-13
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-10-03 19:03:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10255322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoCapes/pseuds/NoCapes
Summary: Pretty much what it says on the tin, Egie is sick, and fluff ensues.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry about the silence on this account, _Smoke Gets in Your Eyes_ is not dead. I've just been out of town working on a work contract and had a five year old hanging off of me for months. So I didn't get much writing done. As an apology - here's a drabble I wrote for the fic blog and forgot I hadn't posted on here.

Engineer locked the workshop door with a sigh of relief. His tools and equipment were tucked away and the work day was officially over.

Leaning on the door, the cold metal felt good on his warm face. Some days the fighting went quickly, sometimes it dragged on. Today it felt never ending. He hadn’t even paid attention to find out if RED won or lost, his head had been pounding through most of it and the dust today seemed to be aggravating his throat more than usual. 

 

Straightening up he cleared his throat and trudged up the steps. All he wanted and cared about right now was a hot shower and bed. 

____________________________________________

He drifted in and out of sleep, dreaming so vividly he wasn’t sure if were real or imagining. Sometimes he was back home on the farm and his dad was trying to tell him something important but the old man always turned into a pile of scrap metal before getting to the point. Other times he was in his room on base, but the shadows felt too long, and the wall felt like they were watching him with a hundred eyes.

A cool hand touched his forehead, causing him to open his eyes with a grunt. It took him a minute to get his bearings. He was in his room, on base. He squinted as he tried to make out the figure, that was silhouetted by his desk lamp. 

“I do believe you have a fever, mon cher.” the silhouette informed him smugly. “Yesterday you were claiming it was allergies.” 

“Spook?” the figure stepped back from the bed and now he could see it was in fact Spy. The BLU Spy, in the middle of his room. Uninvited. In the middle of the night. “We-” he cleared his throat “-we talked about this.” he croaked. It was unsafe, stupid. They had agreed meeting on base was too risky. He opened his mouth to voice his protest when Spy cut him off. 

“-When you weren’t around on the field this morning I decided to check on you.” the Frenchman answered, ignoring his protests. 

“Mornin’?” he frowned as he sat up, all the weight in his head protesting the movement. He knew he was muddled, he hadn’t slept well but surely he hadn’t overslept.

“It’s lunch break,” Spy explained handing him the alarm clock from the nightstand. Squinting at the clock the Texan could make out the time; a quarter after twelve. 

“H-how..” he swallowed painfully, “how’d ah sleep that long?”

“One presumes the fever had something to do with it.” the snake sighed, pulling his leather glove back on. 

“A-ah gotta-” Engineer threw back the bed covers, trying not to flinch at the cold air of the room. “If ah miss th’ fight…” They technically were allowed sick days but few ever took them. Mainly because no one wanted to attract the attention of Medic who felt sick co-workers were just free guinea pigs. 

Spy shoved him back onto the bed, “You need rest.” Under normal circumstances he wouldn’t have much luck moving the Texan, but today Engineer didn’t have the energy to resist and fell back onto his pillow with a spasm of coughs.

“Ah can sleep when Doc kills me.” he hissed trying to sit up again, ignoring his spinning head.

Spy snorted as he forced him back down on the bed,“You are doing a fine job of that yourself.”

Engineer opened his mouth to protest and explain when he instead found himself interrupted by a violent sneeze.

“À tes souhaits,” Spy murmured handing him a very expensive handkerchief. The Texan stared at it not sure if he was supposed to actually blow his nose with it. Another sneeze overcame him, ending the debate as he reflexively covered his nose with it. 

“À tes amours,” the Frenchman answered smugly.

Sheepishly Engineer held up the handkerchief in case the man wanted it back.

“You need it more than me, Monsieur.” Spy said walking from the bed. “I will return shortly, stay there.” With an odd hint of menace he cloaked and invisibly slipped out the door.

Worn out from the arguing the cowboy leaned back on the pillows with a wheeze. He wasn’t sure where Spy had gone, but the snake probably hadn’t been lying about coming back. It was better to stay here than make a scene that his teammates might notice. And attract Medic’s attention. Shutting his eyes he slipped into a doze. 

He was awakened by a gentle shake of his shoulder. Bleary eyed he found himself face to to face with himself. A much healthier looking version of himself, who actually got dressed today. His face contorted in a confused frown as he croaked in confusion at the figure sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Ah,” the doppelganger leaned away with a frown, “Pardon, I forgot.” it answered in familiar voice that wasn’t his. The illusion pulled a cigarette case out of an unseen pocket and faded into the Frenchman.

“Ya tryin’ to kill-” he wheezed but was interrupted as the man handed him a couple of pills and proffered a glass of water. He stared at the snake, when he said he’d be back it never occurred to him the man was getting cold medicine.

“Take these, si vous s'il vous plaît. They should help with the fever.”

Engineer accepted the tablets, turning them over in his hand, examining them. His relationship with the enemy Spy had definitely…changed over time, but old habits died hard.

“Aspirin. I got it from the Infirmary.” A bottle was produced from the Frenchman’s jacket pocket and held it out for him to see.

Guiltily the Texan took the glass of water and choked down the pills. 

“I figured if there was evidence you were up and around, your Medic might leave you alone..” the Frenchman explained taking the water from his hand and placing it on the nightstand. “I didn’t talk to anyone.” he reassured him.

“Sick enough to be out of work but not be worth the trouble?” Engineer asked incredulously shaking his head, and regretting the motion. 

The man shrugged, “It’s not the best solution, true. I would lock my door if I were you.”

“Ah recall ah did.” he murmured.

Brushing the comment aside as usual, Spy stood up, straightening his jacket and tie. “Now if you excuse me, I’m late for the skirmish.” The man strolled to the door, “Get some rest, mon ami. I’ll be back later.” 

With a push of a button Spy was invisible again, and with another click of the door latch and lock the Texan was alone. “Damnit,” he grumbled under his breath before breaking down into a coughing fit. Why was the idiot bothering with him? It’s not like he couldn’t take care of himself, he fumed.

This was risky. If Spy was caught sneaking around off hours… his mind sluggishly tried to imagine the possibilities but failed. 

He glanced at the clock on the night table, it was half past one. The cease fire for lunch would be well over. It was hardly worth the effort to get dressed and get out in the fight. With a shiver he pulled the blankets back up to his neck and soon slipped back into sleep. 

______________________________

He was standing in a corn field back home. Though the farm looked like it’d been bombed, when did that happen? And corn stalks usually didn’t have cameras growing out of them. They looked almost ready for picking.

“Mon amor,” a voice cut into his ponderings on how to best harvest without cracking the camera lenses.

“Monsieur,” he felt a hand on his shoulder as he started to drift back to lucidity. He blearily opened his eyes to see his room, with Spy perched on the edge of the bed with a frown. As odd as this seemed, he was pretty sure this wasn’t a dream.

The Frenchman placed a cool, bare hand on his forehead. “Your fever seems to have gone down a bit.”

“Yah came back…” Engineer murmured. 

“Fighting is done for the day,” the man explained with a shrug. “Now sit up, I brought you some dinner.” 

“‘M not h-” Spy cut him off with a glare that implied he was going to force dinner down his throat if he didn’t cooperate. Sheepishly he sat up as Spy reached around him to readjust the pillow behind him so he could lean back on it. Once the man seemed assured that the cowboy was comfortable he stood from the bed and crossed the room to the desk. 

“Now I apologize, I had to use canned broth for this.” Spy explained as he opened a lunch pail that sat on the desk and pulled out a thermos and battered coffee mug. “BLU is terrible at stocking the kitchen.” He pulled the lid off the thermos and poured the contents into the mug. 

Walking back to the bed he handed the mug over to Engineer.

Holding it near his face he sniffed and could barely make out the smell of chicken and herbs though his congestion. The warmth seeped through the ceramic as he sloshed the contents around slightly in the cup watching the herbs and noodles shift in the broth. “You made me soup.” he observed quietly.

“I tried to.” Spy corrected, “I had to compromise due to time and supplies.”

The Texan nodded in response, not sure what to say. He knew the man could cook, but never thought he’d go to the trouble to make chicken soup for him. He tried picturing the man in a kitchen over a stove and failed.

“Eat it before it gets cold.” Spy ordered.

He took a cautious sip before the snake got irritated and decided to pour the stuff down his gullet. The hot liquid burned through the lump in his throat and warmed his insides.

“How is it?” the man asked watching him closely as he greedily drank down some more.. 

Despite the Spy’s objections it tasted great. Though he realized he hadn’t eaten all day and most anything would taste wonderful to him. ”It’s good…” he murmured into the mug.

“There’s more if you want it, or I did find an orange that wasn’t too battered if you want that instead.”

“Yah- Yah didn’ haf-ta go to any trouble.” he coughed. 

“If I hadn’t what would have happened?” the Frenchman asked and then answered in the same breath “You would have starved and died of thirst and your lunatic of a doctor would be stuffing your corpse with…plutonium or something” 

“Ah would’a been alrigh’” he answered defensively as he examined the remaining drops of broth around the bottom of his mug.

“Please Monsieur Cowboy, you are a terrible liar.” 

Unable to think of a decent reply he sheepishly held out the mug with a cough. “More please?”


End file.
